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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29291907">i think we deserve some rest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollie_oxen_free/pseuds/ollie_oxen_free'>ollie_oxen_free</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(the disordered eating is like. a trauma thing? its not a focus but its mentioned), Disordered Eating, F/F, Trauma, body horror (kinda? i mean. its prime. idk what you want from me), catra has also put others through a lot, catra has been through a lot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:48:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29291907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollie_oxen_free/pseuds/ollie_oxen_free</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>four scenes on the ship after prime.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>catra and the rest of the "crew"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adora/Catra (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i think we deserve some rest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>is this the best? no. however it's been sitting in my drafts for too long and I'm tired of looking at it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s something that shouldn’t affect her as much as it does, her hair. It leaves her off balance, her head too light and neck too cold without the thick and frizzy mess that oftentimes was more trouble than it was worth, easily tangled and matted. It’s more efficient without it, not muffling the sound to her ears, obscuring parts of her vision, not something that needs nearly as much care, now, if it needs any at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s efficient. Better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra hates it. Hates the feeling of the airflow around the ship on the back of her neck and hates the way that she can’t look at her own reflection for more than a second. She hates that she forces herself to stare anyways, meets her own eyes in the warped shapes on the interior of the ship and glares until she wants to rip out the remaining strands by the roots. At least it would be her own choice, painful as it might be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She catches Adora staring at it often enough that it sort of becomes a game. Catra walks around the ship, pretends she can’t see the way that Adora chews on the inside of her lip like she’s always done whenever she’s worried about something. Catra lets her stare and when it’s been long enough she’ll look up with a scowl and say “What?” and listen to whatever excuses the other comes up with as she tries not to laugh without humor, almost daring Adora to mention what they’re both thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a game with no winners, and it leaves them both miserable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s her own sort of vengeance for Adora’s stupid, reckless, selflessness. Adora, who would risk her own life and throw everything she and her ‘rebellion’ have worked for away to save someone who not long ago tried to kill them. Someone who tried to destroy them and everything they wanted to protect, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoyed</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She regrets it. She wants to make amends, and she’d thought the only way she could do that- to make it up to Adora- was to save Glimmer, to make sure Adora came nowhere near the ship to try to keep her safe from the hive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mind she was a part of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking back on it now is painful, and it hurts, and it nearly drives her to scream with how some sick, secret part of her misses it. The sense of one-ness, of belonging. The echoing voice that whispered that she would be useful. That she would never be left alone again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It brings bile to her mouth, leaving a bitter taste in the back of her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re somewhat safe now, at least. Safer than they were on the ship, however short that time may last.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Adora</span>
  </em>
  <span> was safe, despite the danger Catra had put her through, the danger that she herself had caused. That brings the taste of bile back, her own role in all of this, and she wishes she was all those months back, feigning confidence and pretending to be unbothered, if only because it was easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hair is too short, and she hates that she cares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The latter isn’t new.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The ship is cold in a way that can’t be fixed with a few blankets. As much as she doesn’t want to remember it she knows that Prime’s ship was the same way, a constant and pervasive chill that dug down to the bone and left an ache in her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra gets up from the mat she’s laying on with a grunt, ears flicking in annoyance. She’s tired, yes, but she can’t bring herself to sleep, the threat of nightmares and the constant chill rolling together into a looming presence that forces her to her feet. The hallways are filled with a near-imperceptible hum from the engine. She follows the noise without realizing that’s what she’s doing, stopping just outside the arching metal doorway that opens into a room filled with machinery she couldn’t ever begin to understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears Entrapta before she sees her, humming something under her breath that sounds achingly familiar. She places it as a tune she’s heard her singing from </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> (emphasized, filled with actions and words that she doesn’t want to think about) at the same time that Entrapta appears, pink tendrils of hair pulling her out from one of the largest pieces of machinery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other lifts her mask with a smile. Smudges cover her face and gloves and her eyes are alight with excitement as she sets herself on her feet, sticking her tools back into her belt. Her eyes travel across the room to the doorway. When they land on her the excitement dies, replaced by something that Catra places as... not quite fear, not yet, but on the way there. Wariness. Caution. At one time she might have felt smug about such a thing. Now it causes something sharp to constrict in her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stare at one another for a good while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra clears her throat. “It’s... cold. On the ship.” The words sound dumb, even to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entrapta isn’t looking at her anymore. Her hands are fiddling with the edges of her gloves and her gaze is focused somewhere across the room, away from her. Despite this Catra notes that Entrapta keeps her in the corner of her vision. Whether this is a conscious choice or not she doesn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see if I can adjust the life support somewhat,” Entrapta replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra nods but doesn’t leave. Her feet feel like they’re stuck to the floor. “Is it always so cold? In space?” The words feel like they’re choking her as they leave, but she can’t stop them. “It was- on Prime’s ship it was cold too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entrapta frowns, fingers drumming on her thigh. “Maybe. Even the best insulation probably struggles in space.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. She almost turns and leaves when Entrapta looks at her again. “I’m... angry. At you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s been expecting something like this at some point. The hesitance in the words shock her into silence, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entrapta continues. “You... lied to me. Tried to kill me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laugh chokes her on its way out. “Yeah. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A friend wouldn’t have done that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra thinks back on the words Scorpia said to her and knows with the same certainty now as she did back then that they were true. “No. Guess not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Entrapta nods, and she seems satisfied. “That’s what I’d thought when I woke up on the island. Thank you for confirming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that she pulls the mask down over her face, a refitted and repurposed shell from one of the creatures that lurked in the inhospitable greenery. The sheen of the overhead lights off the polished form hits her eyes and makes her wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She digs her claws into her arms, turning to leave. Before she goes she glances over her shoulder, mouth suddenly dry. “You know if- if you wanted to be friends. We could... we could try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first the only confirmation that Entrapta heard her was the near imperceptible tilt of her mask. Then, muffled, almost inaudible: “Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks away with a feeling that might turn into hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As large as the ship is, it’s difficult to get any real privacy. There’s her room, of course, but it’s soundproofed in such a way that the silence makes her want to scream her throat raw, so she takes to finding other nooks and crannies in the place that hum with electricity and magic conjoined, driving them on their suicide mission back to Etheria. She’s managed to tuck herself behind one of the storage units in the room that might be the kitchen, dozing in fitful sleep with the probably unhealthy warmth that seeps from the wiring and through the metal of the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of footsteps nearly makes her hiss awake, but she bites down on her tongue at the last moment to stifle the noise. When she looks around the corner of the unit she sees Glimmer, pulling open the files of freeze dried food opposite her and looking through the bags with an unreadable expression. As Catra watches she picks one of them up- some kind of fruit- and opens it with shaky hands. She pops one in her mouth, but no sooner does she start to chew than a retch wrenches her body over, one hand flying over her mouth as her closed eyes well with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra stands, tapping the side of the unit with one of her claws with two sharp clicks. “What’s wrong, Sparkles? Feeling picky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer jumps, slightly, but then turns to look at her with a small smile. She clears her throat, and her voice is tight with unshed tears. “Hey, Catra. Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At one point Catra’s words would have sent Glimmer into a fury. Now the sharpness of her tone only turns back against her, cutting in a way that she wishes wasn’t guilt. She fights back a wince, reaching around the other to pluck one of the fruits from the bag. It’s somewhat sweet, but a satisfying tartness keeps it from creeping into the cloying. Overall it’s not horrible. Better than ration bars at least- even the gray ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a big fruit person, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steals away the whole bag from Glimmer’s unresisting hands, popping three more into her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many died for that meal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra nearly chokes. She tries to ask “What?”, but it comes out muffled around a mouthful of half-chewed fruit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer continues. “For that- that ‘delicacy’ that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> served. How many suffered? How many died?” Glimmer’s voice wavers, and Catra realizes she’s crying. “Were they enslaved? Were they children?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the fruit becomes much harder to swallow. Her throat struggles around the motion for a bit before she finally manages to force the mouthful down, ignoring the pain as the too-big bite makes its way down to her stomach. “I dunno,” she says lamely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer gives a wet laugh, palms pressing into her eyes. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t-“ A shaky breath. “You don’t need to hear this. It’s not your problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Catra thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it really isn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She tosses the bag on top of the storage unit, no longer hungry. No words come to mind, but staying silent seems wrong too, and she curses this sudden sense of... concern? Understanding. Sympathy, maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without allowing herself to think too hard on it she reaches over and places a hand on Glimmer’s shoulder. It seems that was all it took, tears starting to flow soon after in the soft, hiccuping way of someone trying to muffle their own crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She keeps her hand there until the tears finally stop and Glimmer reaches up, resting her hand on top of Catra’s own and giving a small squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she says with a barely-there smile that’s framed by tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra nods, and pulls her hand away, and heads back to her spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glimmer follows her, just barely enough room for the two of them. Together they sit and feign sleep until it turns into something real.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of all of them, Bow could be the most infuriating. Which really was saying something, given how frustrating Adora could be with her smirks that she doesn’t bother to conceal whenever Catra does almost anything along the lines of trying to be a “better person,” whether that was sitting down with the rest of them to eat or trying to help Entrapta with her near-constant work of repairs around the ship (with helping being a pretty subjective term, given that most of it was lugging heavy equipment around and trying to parse what was going on from her constant stream of dialogue into her recorders.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all have their traits that drive her insane, but somehow Bow’s desire to constantly inform her of whatever she’s doing that is “cute,” always in earnest, is like a fly buzzing around her ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not. Cute.” She hisses out through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips are curled in a snarl and her claws are bared. It’s a display of threat that has done her many services over the years, a display that is easily backed up with all the violence and pain the threat promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It does literally nothing to quell Bow’s grin, eyes nearly sparkling in excitement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>adorable.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She hisses at him, then groans and lays her head down on the table they’re sitting at. She turns her head to peek at the tinkering he’s doing on various arrows, aware that it was her own damned curiosity that brought her to watch. If anyone was to blame it was herself for coming in the first place, with further blame on her body for sneezing at the first hint of dust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve tried to kill you and your friends, you know. Many times.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow pauses in his work, eyes drifting up as if in thought. “Yeah, you have. Don’t see what that has to do with you being cute, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes. “Next thing you know you’ll be saying that, I dunno, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hordak</span>
  </em>
  <span> is cute.” Bow pauses. An expression of guilt passes over his face. Realization floods Catra with enough force to make her gape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She says, and it sounds like a plea. “No way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow drops his tools on the table and turns to face her fully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, look! Wrong Hordak is cute!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra winces. “I guess,” she concedes. If she looked past the horrible wrongness of someone with Hordak’s face being nice and- god forbid- </span>
  <em>
    <span>smiling?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fine. “But that’s not Hordak. That’s-“ she groans. “We've got to find something better to call him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, they’re clones. Meaning they </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>practically identical. Plus!” He takes his index and thumb and gestures beside his head, pulling them away and closing them to mimic a point. “Their little ears!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra rubs at her temples, a headache coming on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you stand being around me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question comes out much softer than she intends it to, and it’s such a shock from their previous banter that even Bow pauses. Once again, Catra reminds herself that this is all her own damn fault, ears flattening to her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna be honest,” he mutters, “I’m not really sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s reassuring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bow laughs. “Isn’t it?” The grin on his face slips into something more genuine. “Look, all I know is that you saved Glimmer, and you really seem to be trying. I think that warrants giving you a chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves it at that, like it’s enough of an explanation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who knows? Maybe it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More dust settles on her nose, drawing another sneeze out of her. Bow coos again, and she debates against the many, </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span> pros of killing him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>like what i do? come check me out on <a href="https://ollie-oxen-free.tumblr.com">tumblr!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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